


The Rookery Never Forgets

by Heavenlea6292



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Human Trafficking, Hunt, Kidnapped Dean, Selkies, Smart Sam, monster trafficking, other fun stuff, wheee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:33:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenlea6292/pseuds/Heavenlea6292
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The small seaside town of Machiasport, Maine has been plagued by 7 deaths and 7 disappearences. Sam and Dean decide it's their kinda thing, but when they get there, they discover that it's not any monster they've ever dealt with before, and it may not be the monster's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So, you find something?" Dean asked, sliding into the driver’s side seat with bags and cups in tow. Sam nodded, biting his lip as he stared down at the laptop screen. They just finished a hunt, and he was eager to move onto the next one. Neither of them wanted to stay still for long, because staying still means thinking, and neither of them really wanted to think.

"Yeah," he said, reading off the screen, “So get this- ‘Sleepy Town in Maine Plagued by Seaside Deaths and Disappearances.’"

"Okay…so what makes it our thing?" Dean asked, tearing into his burger.

"Well, they say that the 7 deaths were drownings, but the bodies were found with bite-marks on their heels, like something had bit them and dragged them down; and they were all men, pillars of the community, yada yada. Plus- it’s not just drownings. According to this, 7 women have gone missing since the drownings started."

”7 dead guys and 7 missing women. You think it’s demonic?” Dean asked, starting the car.

"I mean, the fact that it’s a specific number for both, and that all the men died the exact same way sounds pretty demony, but it could be a coven. Anyways, you think we should look into it?"

"Hell yeah," Dean replied with a grin, "Worst things worst, we get to have some great seafood. Where is this going on at?"

"Machiasport," Sam replied, reaching into the bag and taking out his own food, "Should only take about 13 hours from here."

* * *

 They walked into the Machiasport Police department the next day, badges in hand.

"I’m Special Agent Bachman and this is my partner Special Agent Turner," Dean said, flashing his badge, "We’re here to investigate the drownings and disappearances."

"Really?" the young officer asked, looking a bit star struck, "I didn’t think the FBI would ever be interested in what’s going on around here. You guys think it’s a serial killer?"

Sam winced a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, we can’t say anything for sure until we have all the information, but it sounds like it," he replied, "Can we see the bodies?"

"Oh, yeah totally," the kid said eagerly, "Here’s the address for the Coroner’s office, he’s up in Machias close to the college but I got the pictures and reports here." He held up a finger, bounding into the back and returning with a large case box, dropping it on the counter with a heavy thud.

"Here she is," he said, "The mother lode. If you ask me, I think it’s a serial killer."

"Well, thanks kid," Dean said with a wide smile, "Can we take this?"

"Yeah sure," he replied, "I don’t think the sheriff will mind, he’ll probably be glad to have the help."

* * *

“The Old Bay Inn,” Dean read out loud, “Hey! 44 bucks for a double- looks like this is where we’re hunkering down for this one. Come on,” Dean said, the Impala swinging into the parking lot and coming to a sharp stop. Sam nodded distractedly, looking over to see Dean staring at him expectantly.  
“What?”  
“It’s your turn to check in, man,” Dean said, “So…”  
“Can we not do this?” Sam demanded, “Come on, let’s just get this over with.”

Dean smacked the steering wheel irritably, opening the door and following Sam in. Sam reached out and rang the bell, catching a glimpse of a beautiful young woman carrying a child, looking exhausted and miserable. Sam felt bad, but it seemed like she was the only one there.  
“Excuse me, miss?” He called out, “We’d like to check in…”  
She glanced at them and turned away quickly, just as someone else walked in.  
“Can I help you gents?”  
They both turned around, seeing an older man standing behind them, looking welcoming.  He walked around the counter, pulling out his log book.  
“I’m Charles Tingley, owner/operator.” Sam gestured to where the young woman previously stood, a look of curiosity on his face.  
“And who was that?”  
“Oh, you mean Betsy? That’s my wife. Don’t mind her, she’s shy. She ain’t from here.”  
“Where’s she from?” Dean asked, “We’ve been all over.” Charles chuckled.  
“Oh, she ain’t from anywhere you gents have been,” he replied, “Names?”  
Dean leaned forward, a wide smile on his face.  
“Sure, Dean Bachman and Sam Turner please. Two queens.”  
“Mhm,” the man said, writing quickly, “Will that be cash or credit?”  
“Cash, if you don’t mind,” Dean replied, “We’ll need the room for a week, is that alright?”  
“Sure thing,” The man said, counting the cash, “So, what are you gents getting up to around little old Machiasport?”  
“We’re investigating the drownings and disappearances,” Dean said easily, ignoring Sam’s elbow jabbing in his side. The man nodded.  
“Getting pretty spooky around here. Gives me half a mind to keep my family shut up tight, dangerous times,” he replied, “Well, if you need anything, you call in. Have a pleasant evening, gents,” he said, “And stay away from the coast.”  
“Will do,” Dean said, waving, “Take it easy, Chuck.”

The door swung closed behind them as they walked towards their room, Sam finding his voice.  
“That was weird,” Sam commented.  
“People in small towns are always weird, Sam. It’s like a requirement. Creepy, weird, overly interested in your business and not interested at all in sharing theirs,’ Dean said, shrugging, “Besides, his wife is the creepy one. She had that thousand yard stare.”  
“Yeah, but did you notice that as soon as she saw her husband, she basically ran away? That’s not really normal.”  
“Hey, we’re here to investigate a case, not stick our nose in someone’s weird mail-order-bride marriage,” Dean joked, “We still got enough light. We can head down to the beach, see what we can dig up, maybe do some readings and then head out for a few beers and dinner.” 

* * *

Dean crouched in the sand, looking dejected.  
“We might as well give up!” he yelled over the surf, “It’s cold as fuck, we’re losing the light, we’ve been here 4 hours and we still haven’t found shit!” Dean looked up at Sam, “You get any EMF?”  
“No,” Sam sighed, “No EMF, no sulfur, so altars or symbols, nothing. Just a big empty beach.”  
“Well, it’d help if we knew what the fuck we were looking for,” Dean groaned, sitting down heavily. Sam sat down next to him, pulling his notebook out of his bag with a pen.  
“Come on, let’s just go over the details of the situation again,” Sam said comfortingly, “Maybe we’ll see something we missed with the facts fresh in our heads.”  
“Alright, but let’s hurry up, I’m freezing my nuts off,” Dean moaned. Sam chuckled a little rolling his eyes.  
“Okay, so each of the male victims was exhibiting normal behavior earlier in the day. Then, as far as the police can figure-“  
“Which isn’t exactly reliable-“  
“-that something made the men come here to the beach and get in the ocean fully dressed. When they were in the water, something bit their Achilles’ heel and dragged them down and held them there until the drowned.”  
“And then the next morning they find out the female victim is gone too,” Dean said, “But that doesn’t really help us at all.” Sam nodded, his energy being sapped by the cold, whipping winds off the ocean, sand and salt stinging his eyes.  
“You know what, why don’t we call it a day like you wanted to,” Sam sighed, “I can’t take this cold anymore.”  
“Finally!” Dean exclaimed, jumping to his feet, “I’m starving.” 

* * *

They walked into the small pub, looking around. It was dark and dank, covered from floor to ceiling with fishing memorabilia.  
“I feel like I’m in the damn Dangerous Catch clubhouse,” Dean mumbled, walking over to a table and sitting down. He looked around, getting more and more irritable by the second.  
“Dude, this place is a total sausage fest.”  
“Come on Dean,” Sam replied, smirking, “You’re not that upset about it.”  
“It’s not even the good kind though,” Dean replied, “Most of these dudes are Bobby’s age.”  Sam laughed quietly, still looking over all the papers laid out in front of him. He kept thinking about something he saw at the beach, but felt stupid mentioning.  
“Hey,” Sam said as Dean finished ordering what they wanted from the bartender, “Did you see anything…weird…in the ocean while we were out there?”  
“No,” He replied, “I wish I did though, we got frostbite and sand in all my unmentionables for nothing. Why, you see something?”  
“I thought I saw someone watching us from way out,” he said, “Just the top of a head peeking out of the water.”  
“It was probably Ariel,” Dean joked, “What a babe. Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve wanted a piece of that action since I was 11.” Sam rolled his eyes again.  
“I don’t know…I just keep getting a weird feeling from this place.”  
“Weird as in ‘splitting headaches, visions, Lord Voldemort is near’ weird or ‘Deliverance’ weird?”  
“Neither,” Sam said, “Weird as In I don’t think it’s supernatural weird.” Dean took a swig of his bear, his lips pursing.  
“So, you wanna bail?”  
“No,” he said, rubbing his mouth, “I mean- there’s definitely something supernatural happening. But I don’t think it’s their fault.”  
“What, you mean the monster’s?” Dean asked, “So we’re thinking monster now?”  
“That’s the whole problem,” Sam moaned in frustration, “We have no idea what it is- but people don’t just die and disappear like this.” Dean smiled easily, pushing the second beer bottle towards him.  
“Come on,” Dean said, “Don’t freak out so much. You’ll give yourself gray hair.”  
“Sure,” Sam murmured, “I mean, aren’t you getting any weird vibes from this place.”  
“Hell yeah,” Dean replied, “I’m getting the vibe that everyone here has got a big ass secret that they don’t want us to find out.”

* * *

"Dean, check this out," Sam called out to Dean, waving him over. Dean stuck his head out of the bathroom, a frown plastered on his face.

"Y’mind, Sam?" he said, "I was about to get in the shower!"

"Leave the door open then," Sam replied, "And I’ll just come in."

"Fine," Dean grumbled. Sam waited for the water to come on and for dean to get in before coming in and sitting down on the toilet.

"So get this," he said, flicking through the file folder in his hands, "All of these guys that were drowned? They were married to the women who have gone missing."

"That a fact?" Dean said loudly, scrubbing his hair, "Well, that sounds pretty witchy to me." Sam shook his head.

"I woulda thought so too, but half of these couples have been married for years, and they have kids. But the kids were all spared, and now they’re in the system."

"So? Witchy Momma doesn’t wanna be slowed down by her brood. Not all parents want their kids," Dean replied.

"It just seems so weird," Sam muttered, "Happy marriages, they were all picture perfect couples, and then one day Dad drowns and Mom disappears."

“Yeah, totally weird, but weird is relative with us, am I right?”

Sam frowned, thinking hard until something else that was odd came to mind.  
“Dean, did you notice that we’ve been in this town for 2 days and we haven’t seen one woman?”  
“Whatcha mean?”  
“I mean, not one female employee anywhere. We went to the bar last night, not one woman. Not a single woman anywhere.”  
“So, they’re a town stuck in the 50’s. Not everyone has caught up with the times, I mean just look at half the dudes we hunt with.”  
“I don’t mean like that,” Sam said sharply, “I just mean…not one single woman?”  
“Wait- Sam, we saw the motel owner’s wife,” Dean said, “So there goes that theory.”  
“No, we saw her walking around in their part of the motel. We didn’t see her outside, and she looked pretty miserable.”  
“If you lived in this dump, wouldn’t you be miserable?”  
“Dude, this is one of the nicer places we’ve stayed in.”  
“Oh, right.”  
“Okay, spin it a bit- have you seen one available woman?”  
“All women are available if you try hard enough, baby brother.”  
“No, I mean- you know what I mean!” Sam said, flustered. Dean laughed.  
“Yeah, I get what you’re saying, but maybe they just get married young around here?”

"I think it’s selkies."

Dean stuck his head out of the shower, his head covered in soap bubbles.

"Selkies, holy shit," Dean said seriously. Sam looked at Dean skeptically. Dean had a few regular responses, and this was one of them.  
“You have no idea what a selkie is, do you?’ Sam asked.  
“Nope,” Dean replied, ducking back under the spray, “But as usual, I only care about two things- what is it and how can I kill it?”  
“That’s the problem,” Sam replied, “Selkies have a ton of lore, they’re ancient creatures. According to legend, Selkies are seals who can shed their skin and become humans.”  
“So, it’s a shifter.”  
“No,” Sam replied, “Again, according to lore, they can only shift once in their lifetimes. If they shift back into seals, that’s it. And, when they shift, they shed their seal skin, and they have to put it back in order to shift back- lore says that if a human, specifically a man, takes the seal skin and locks it away, they become the master of the selkie.”

“So…how do we identify a selkie?”  
“Well, lore describes what they’re like, but not really any physical descriptions. I mean, they say that a Selkie wife will spend most of her time staring out at the sea and she’ll be the perfect wife, but most of the time they’ll be unhappy.”  
“Finding daydreaming, unhappy housewives. That shouldn’t be hard,” Dean said sarcastically. Sam ignored him, staring at the screen hard.  
“But in all the lore, Selkies aren’t violent- they try to find their skins, and then just…return to the sea. They don’t drown their masters, and it says nothing about biting their heels,” he said, tapping around, “Maybe it’s not the selkie wives.”  
“Then who is it?” Dean demanded, throwing the curtain open, grabbing a towel off the rack, “The selkie wives suddenly got a magical fairy godmother who drowns their husbands and gives them back their skins?”  
“I don’t know,” Sam replied, rubbing his temples as Dean shuffled past him, “But something isn’t right.”  
“Yeah, real fishy.”  
Sam sighed loudly, closing his laptop.

* * *

Sam’s cellphone started blaring at 5 in the morning, making Dean groan loudly.  
“Five more minutes Sammy,” he whined, turning over and squeezing the pillow around his head. Sam rolled over, hitting the button and pressing the phone to his ear.  
“FBI Special Agent Turner,” he groaned, rubbing his face.  
“Oh hey,” the young deputy’s chipper voice said from the other end, “This is Aaron Addison, Machiasport’s Deputy. We talked two days ago about the disappearances and drownings?”  
“Yeah,” Sam said, waking himself up, “Yeah, Addison. Can I help you?”  
“Oh, not really, but I figured you guys would wanna get here first,” he said, “We’ve got another drowning and disappearance.”  
“Shit,” Sam hissed, “Okay, down at the coast?”  
“Yeah,” Addison said, “We’ve got a survivor.”  
Sam sat bolt upright, very awake now.  
“The husband?”  
“No,” Addison said, lowering his voice, “Their kid.”

* * *

They walked down the slope onto the beach, shivering. Dean was already in a bad mood, getting dragged out of bed before the sun was even up, clutching his coffee like it was a flask of holy water. Deputy Addison turned around, jogging up to meet them.  
“Mornin’ fellas,” he said, entirely too cheerful, “Well, there he is, John Taylor. Bite in the ankle, but our guy says the cause of death is probably drowning. You wanna take a look.”  
“I wanna go back to bed,” Dean mumbled. Sam smiled sheepishly, nodding.  
“Yeah, that’d be great,” He said, following the deputy down to the body. Sam knelt down, putting on a pair of gloves and examining the bite on his heel.  
“Whatever bit him didn’t have sharp teeth,” he said, looking up pointedly at Dean. Dean nodded, looking at Addison.  
“Were you at the scenes for the other victims?” he asked. Addison nodded.  
“Sure was, he looks the same as they did,” he replied, “But there were a few things different about this one. Like I said, we found their kid washed up on shore, and about a half mile down the coast, someone said they saw something that looks like a body. I sent my boys down there now.”  
“Sam, I’m gonna head down there, see if we have a second body. You meet up with me down there after you finish up here, then we’ll meet the kid.” Sam nodded, standing and looking at the deputy.  
“So, the woman- his wife?” Sam asked. Addison nodded, looking a bit sad.  
“Yeah,” he said, “Johnny was a good guy too- hell, all these men were good guys.”  
“And their wives?” Sam pressed. Addison looked up, shrugging.  
“All nice, pretty ladies. Home makers, all of them. Didn’t go out much.”  
“But their marriages were good, no calls about domestic disturbances or anything like that?”  
“No, nothing like that,” he replied, “Well, the first guy, old Andrew Miller, his neighbor called a few days before he died and his wife disappeared saying they were arguing about something real odd. Neighbor said Leanne, his wife, was yelling, ‘Give it back, give it back, tell me where it is, I want to go home’.”  
“Home?” Sam asked.  
“Yeah, Leanne wasn’t from around here.”  
“Well, where was she from?”  
“Not from around here,” Addison said firmly, “Were a little fishing town sir. We gotta bring in new blood every now and again, if you catch my meaning.” Sam scowled, nodding.  
“Yeah, I think I’m starting to,” he replied, looking back down at the body, “Ah, how old was John Taylor here?”  
“32,” Addison said, “His wife was real young though. Couldn’t be more than 25 by my figuring.”  
“Young wives, that sorta a thing around here?” Sam asked. Addison shrugged.  
“Yeah I guess. We like ‘em young and pretty I guess. You got a wife at home?”  
“No,” Sam said quietly. Addison reached up, patting his shoulder.  
“Well, different strokes for different folks I guess,” he replied, “You wanna go with us to the coroner, or do you want one of my boys to take you down to where your partner is?” Sam bit his lip, thinking.  
“I think I wanna catch up with my partner, if you don’t mind,:” Sam said, smiling and shaking Addison’s hand, “I appreciate all the help, Deputy.”  
“Just doin my job, Agent Turner,” Addison replied sheepishly, waving over one of his boys, “Opperman, take Agent Turner down the coast to meet up with his partner and the guys who are checking out that possible body, would ya?”

* * *

Officer Opperman looked around, scratching his head.  
“I swear this is where they said they’d be,” he muttered. Sam pointed out the row of police vehicles, lining the road.  
“This is where they should be.”  
“But no one’s here,” Opperman mumbled. They got out of the car, jogging down to the beach. The sand was torn up, as if there’d been a fight, and there was no one there. Sam could feel his blood pressure rising- where was Dean?  
He squinted as he looked over the beach, spotting something dark floating in the surf. He jogged over, turning it over.

It was a dead body, one of the officers.  
“Opperman!” Sam yelled, “I got a dead body over here!”  
“You ain’t the only one,” Opperman whispered, pointing shakily out into the surf.

Sam looked out, seeing the bodies of 9 men floating around in the current, their back sto the surface. Sam felt his heart freeze.

“Dean!”


	2. Chapter 2

“That is my partner out there!” Sam yelled agitatedly, pacing around the Sherriff’s office. Sheriff Coleman looked intimidated, tapping his hands nervously.   
“I know that, and we’re looking for him, he wasn’t with the bodies we pulled out of the water,” Coleman said, “But Agent, I have a feeling we’re looking for a dead body.”   
“I’m not gonna believe that until you produce a dead body,” Sam snapped, rubbing his face hard.

He took a few deep breaths, calming himself down. Dean wasn’t with the other officers, so he must’ve been alive. He turned back to the sheriff calmly, his expression blank.   
“The victim’s child was found on the beach this morning near their father’s corpse, correct?”   
“Yeah, 7 year old Lila Taylor. She’s currently in the hospital up in Machias, getting treatment for mild hypothermia.”   
“Mild hypothermia?” Sam asked, looking confused, “She had to be out there all night.”   
“It’s the damndest thing I’ve ever seen,” Coleman replied, “Estimates say she was out there for at least 8 hours, but it was only mild. It’s a miracle the kid is alive.”   
“A miracle,” Sam muttered, “I’m gonna need all the information on where she’s at.” 

* * *

 

Sam walked into the children’s ward of the hospital, looking around for a nurse.   
“Excuse me,” he said politely at the nurse’s station, “I need to know what room Lila Taylor is in?” The nurse nodded, standing up.   
“You must be Agent Turner, Sheriff Coleman said you would be coming,” she said, waving for him to follow, “I’m going to warn you, she’s very tired from her ordeal, and she’s not quite making sense.”   
“That’s alright,” Sam said, “And her hypothermia?”   
“She’s doing quite well, better than anyone could’ve hoped honestly,” she replied, “She’s a very lucky little girl.” She stopped; gesturing to the room that was empty, save for the little girl lying in bed, staring up at the TV. He walked in quietly, sitting in the chair next to her.   
“What are you watching?” he asked gently. The little girl looked over at him and back up at the screen, shrugging.   
“Teen Titans,” she said quietly, her voice a little raspy, “Can I go home now?” Sam smiled, shaking his head.   
“I don’t know when you’re gonna get to go home,” Sam said, “I’m not a doctor.”   
“Then who are you?” she asked.   
“I’m a police officer.”   
“I know all the police officers,” she said seriously. Sam chuckled a little, pulling his fake badge out of his pocket.   
“I’m a special kind of police officer, my name is Sam,” he said, holding out his badge, “You can look, if you like.” She took it, squinting at his picture and back at him.   
  
“I’m Lila,” she said, “When is my Mommy coming to get me?”   
“Lila,” Sam said gently, taking her hand gently, “Your Mommy is missing; we don’t know where she is.” Lila didn’t look bothered, just looking back at the TV screen.   
“I know where my Mommy is,” she said, “She’s in the ocean with her other family.”   
“Her other family?” Sam asked, “Lila, this is very important, who is your Mommy’s other family?” Lila pressed the button, turning off the TV before turning to face him, her expression very serious.   
“Mommy’s other family is her family from before she was with my Daddy. They live in the ocean, we used to go and visit them sometimes, but Daddy found out and wouldn’t let us go anymore. We always saw my friends and their Mommies at the beach too, along with the rest of the herd.”  
“The other Mommies?” he asked. Lila nodded.   
“Yup. Miss Leanne and Miss Betsey and Miss Lorna and Miss Susanne…all of the mommies from our town. They all went to the beach and they brought their kids too. Some of them were my friends. They all said they were visiting their mommy’s other families.”   
“What’s her other family like?” Sam asked, writing quickly. Lila’s face screwed up in concentration, pursing her lips.   
“Well, Mommy has her other husband. He’s real tall and real pretty,” she began, “But he doesn’t talk to me. And then there are mommy’s pups, and they used to play with me. They’re my brothers and sisters. Mommy’s old husband always used to call her a weird name and ask her if she found it yet. But I don’t know what it is.”   
“Okay Lila, you’re doing great,” Sam said encouragingly, “Do you know how your Mommy and Daddy met?”   
“Mommy said that Daddy bought her,” Lila said, picking at the sheet, “But Daddy says I’m not supposed to talk about that.”   
“That’s okay Lila. We don’t have to talk about that. Why were you at the beach?”   
“I was sleeping and I heard Mommy start crying, so I got out of bed and she was holding a bunch of real shiny blankets. But Daddy came in and said she had to put it back and that she couldn’t go back,” Lila started, “But Mommy ran out the door and Daddy followed her, so I went too. We ran all the way to the beach, and then Mommy took off her dress and wrapped the shiny blanket around her and jumped in the water. Then Daddy ran after her and he was in the water yelling, ‘Moira, Moira, come back Moira’, and then he yelled like he got hurt and went under water. I got scared so I tried to go and help him, but I got stuck in the water and I was real cold. Then I saw my Mommy, and she pulled me up on land and took off the shiny blanket and wrapped me up in it so I wouldn’t be too cold. I fell asleep for a while but Mommy woke me up and told me she had to go home now and that she loved me, and that she’d come visit me at the beach. And then Officer Aaron came and they put me in the ambulance.” Sam closed his notepad, nodding.   
“That’s gonna help me a lot,” he said kindly, “Thank you very much, Lila.”   
“You’re welcome,” Lila said, turning back to her TV. Sam didn’t have the heart to tell her that her father was dead.

* * *

Sam spent the next few hours scouring the beach for any sign of Dean. He climbed over the jetties and rocky outcroppings and waded through lagoons, searching over ten miles of coast to find some sign of Dean. On his way back, he came cross something winking in the barely-there sunlight, half buried. He jogged over and knelt before it, picking it up.   
It was Dean’s amulet.  

“What the hell,” he murmured to himself, looking at the thick leather chord. It looked as if Dean had bit through it, leave him a clue that he was alive instead of taken. Sam picked it up, squeezing it in his fist. He knew Dean was alive- but why would the Selkies want him? Why were the selkies attacking?

* * *

 

When he finally returned to the motel room, he collapsed on the bed, dragging his laptop into his lap.   
“Why are you attacking,” he murmured, taking a long pull of burning hot coffee, “The lore never mentions you attacking, so why all of the sudden? All the stories are about love or bondage, but you never retaliated in the lore. You simply took your skin and went home.” He tried every search query he could think of, until it dawned on him.   
Selkies were seals who could change into humans. Shifters tended to take on the habits and actions of whatever they shifted into. So, if werewolves were a lot like wolves, then selkies were probably a lot like seals.   
“So, maybe there’s violent behavior in seals that are making you guys attack. Maybe that’s what this is, a predatory instinct,” he muttered. He pulled up his Google scholar, typing in “seal social behaviors”. As he scrolled through, he found that seals were generally like hunters and humans in a lot of ways. The men tended to be the leaders, the young bulls would often rebel against the older ones in order to gain ranking. They lived in large groups, and had social cliques, and a pack of them was called a ‘rookery’. He rubbed his face, remembering something that Lila had said. She told him that all the other mothers went down to the beach together to meet their families…so were all the women in this town selkies? He read deeper into the maternal behaviors in seals, that they generally became aggressive when other pups and mothers got too close to their children. Was that what was happening? Their human husbands had become too close to their pups, so the attacked? But that didn’t account for the fact that they left the children behind…if they were o protective, wouldn’t they have taken their children with them? And what had Lila meant, her mother took off her skin and wrapped her in it to keep her warm? Selkies, according to lore, were only able to change once in their lifetimes. He spent the next hour researching their social behaviors, their hunting patterns, anything he could get his hands on, and the last thing he read as his vision started to blur was an article, “Seals rarely attack humans…”

* * *

He felt the bed shift slightly, his eye opening up the barest slit. Whoever- or whatever- it was was being incredibly quiet, quiet enough to impress Sam. He kept his breathing even, his hand moving just enough to brush the blade of the knife beneath his pillow. He struggled to keep his face calm and expressionless, like he was asleep, despite every part of his body suddenly being awake and jittery.    
Suddenly, there was someone on top of him, and just as quickly as he had a blade pressed to their neck, they had a blade pressed to his. As his eyes started to adjust, he could make out that it was a woman on top of him. What the hell…was she one of the selkies?   
“What do you want?” he demanded, only to have a hand clapped over his mouth. He glared up at the feminine figure, watching as her head whipped around.  
“You must be quiet, hunter,” she hissed, “In this town, no one but the men are ever alone.”   
“How do you know I’m a hunter?’ he whispered, pushing her hand away.   
“I have seen many hunters. You all have the same look about you,” she replied, “You must leave this town.”   
“Why?” he demanded softly. She sat up, pulling the knife from his throat, “The natural balance is being restored. This is not your fight, you must leave.”   
“I’m not leaving without my brother,” Sam replied, “I know they took him. I don’t know why, but your Rookery took him.”   
“You must leave,” she insisted, “I will take you to your brother, but then you must leave.”   
“Why?” Sam whispered, “Why did they take my brother, why are they killing men, why do I have to leave?”  
“You ask too many questions, hunter,” she hissed, “Just leave.”  
“Why are the bulls in your Rookery killing the men in this town?” he demanded, “I will become your worst nightmare if I don’t get my brother back along with some answers.”

She got off of him, setting the knife aside and turning on the light. He sat up swinging his legs over the side of the bed and holding the knife defensively, ready for an attack. Sam was surprised to see Betsey Tingley standing in front of him, looking around nervously. Like someone was watching them.   
“How do you know what I am?” she asked. Sam relaxed, lowering the knife and frowning.   
“You, Moira Taylor, Leanne Miller, the rest of the missing women- you’re all selkies,” he said, “Moira and Leanne found their skins and returned to the ocean, and I’m assuming the others did too. I read the lore, any man who takes your skin and hides it becomes your master, essentially, your husband. But why are you killing the men?”   
“A husband isn’t a master,” she hissed bitterly, “My people have mated with humans for thousands of years in harmony. There were always the few men who would take us against our will, but never was he a husband. A husband is a lover, a mate. These humans who take us against our will are little more than beasts seeking dominion over us.”    
“Is that why you’re killing them?” he asked, “Because they took you against your will?”  
“There is so much more to it than that,” she replied bitterly, “But it isn’t my story alone. I will take you to your brother, and the ones who can tell you more.”

* * *

Sam shivered in the cold sea air, the glowing light of a fire beckoning him and Betsey closer to the shore. She looked back at him, still clad only in her nightgown, waving him forward.  
“Come,” she said gently, the breeze carrying it to him, “Come, hunter.”  He walked forward cautiously, one hand on his gun in the waist band of his jeans, and the other clutching the knife he had pulled on her earlier. He wasn’t about to take a chance with the Selkies; he’d resort to force if necessary.  He watched Betsey walk down to the icy surf, spreading her arms wide and making a call like he’d never heard before, chilling him in a way that the wind couldn’t.

He watched in awe as a rookery of seals emerged from the water, their smooth heads peeling back to reveal human faces, the skins falling away to reveal men and women of all shapes and sizes and ages, their skins like shining silky blankets, cast away in the sand. He glanced to the left as more of them emerged from around a rocky outcropping, crowded in a small group as they all approached the fire.   
The tribe of tall, muscled men and women stood around the fire in front of the others, their skin all shades and colors, some speckled, some not, but all had sparkling brown eyes, watching him closely.

“Sister,” he said loudly, “You come with a human.” She nodded, gesturing to Sam.   
“He is the hunter. He wishes to know why you kill the men of this town.”   
“And you could not tell him this?” the leader demanded  
“Well, Sam here is a ‘hear it from the source’ kinda guy.”

Sam looked over to see the large group from behind the rocks part, revealing Dean tied with his wrists behind his back, his ankles and knees bound too. He was held up roughly between two tall men, his shins scraping against the ground. They dropped him roughly, making him wince as he fell on his face. He turned his head to the side and spit, glancing up at them.   
“You guys could use some serious work on your people skills,” he said, trying to roll over. One of them put their foot on the square of his back, holding him face down. Sam lunged forward, only to be stopped by Betsey shoving him back.   
“Let my brother go or I swear to god-“  
“What God do you swear to, human?” The leader said, walking over and pressing a long knife to Dean’s throat, his hand tangled roughly and pulling at the crown of Dean’s hair, “I am curious- what do you think you could do to stop me from spilling your brother’s blood on the sand?”  
Sam lunged forward again, stopped by Dean’s voice.   
“Easy, Tiger,” he said, “They ain’t gonna kill me. They need you to do what they want.”    
“Dean…”  
“Come on, would I lie to you?” Dean asked, smiling despite the pained wince on his face. Sam ran through all the times Dean had lied to him in order to protect him.   
“Yeah you would, especially at a time like this. You okay Dean?” he asked.   
Dean shrugged from his place on the ground, grinning roguishly.   
“Ah, you know. Some rope burn, pretty cold, starving, and I got a knife to my throat, but I’m alive.”    
“Enough!” The leader yelled, pulling the knife from Dean’s throat and pointing at Sam, “You wish to know why? We shall tell you why.”

One of the elderly selkies came forward, a stick in her hand.   
“We are the selkies,” she said in a rough and gravelly voice, “Keepers of the ocean and all its creatures. For thousands of years we have existed, since the first men walked the earth.” She drew a few wavy lines in the sands, “Wherever there are men, there are Selkies. For thousands of years, we have remained at peace with humans and hunters; we do not hurt them and they leave us to our work. Every 20 years or so, a selkie will fall for a human, and they shall leave the rookery for their new found love. But the call of the sea is too great, and they return.”   
She drew two rough stick figures, a human and one with a tail.   
“News began to travel of the selkie wives and husbands, of their virtues and faithfulness, and the hearts of man are covetous. Humans began to take Selkies, hiding their skins and enslaving them.”   
She drew a fire, her eyes filling with sadness, “The humans thought that if they burnt the selkie skins, that they would be able to keep the selkies in their bondage forever. But they were wrong. It simply killed them, their corpses as charred as their skins.”

Dean interrupted.   
“Okay, so what does this have to do with the town?” he asked.   
“Do not interrupt the Keeper of Stories!” one of the children hissed. Dean stuck his tongue out at the child, and the story keeper continued.   
“Soon, hunters began to join in the greed, and they began to take the selkies and sell them to humans. As has happened here,” the story keeper finished, glaring at Dean. Sam looked confused.   
“So… hunters have been capturing the women in your rookery, and selling them as wives?” he asked.   
The leader nodded.   
“And we are taking them back, and punishing those who would enslave us.”   
“But how are you able to shift on land?” he asked, pointing at them, “The lore says that you can only shift once in a lifetime.”  
“The arrogance of humans at work,” the leader sniffed derisively, “They could not imagine their slaves not desiring to come crawling back to them.”   
“The man,” Betsey said, approaching the leader, “He desires his brother to be returned to him.”   
“I care not what he desires. He doesn’t care for what you and I desire.”   
“He’s not from here,” she said, “He wants to take his brother and leave.”   
“The man has a name, you know,” Dean said, looking up at the leader, “His name is Sam, and I’m Dean. And we really don’t give a shit about you existing. We’re more worried about the whole killing people thing.”    
“We are killing humans who deserve to die!” The leader bellowed.   
“You can’t make that choice!” Sam yelled back, “You don’t get to decide who lives or dies!”   
“And you do, hunter?” the leader sneered, “We know what you do. You cut down all those in your path that you deem unworthy of life. You and your brother. How is what we are doing any different?”   
“It’s-“ Sam paused, sighing, “It’s not. But there has to be a better way…one that doesn’t end with death.”   
“So, what do you suggest?” A woman said, stepping forward into the firelight. Sam recognized her- her daughter looked like her.   
“Moira?” he asked, “Moira Taylor?”   
“That’s not my name,” she snapped, “I’m willing to hear the human’s suggestion.”

Sam looked around the faces illuminated by the firelight, taking a deep breath.   
“You want your family members back,” he said slowly, “So let me and my brother help them find their skins and return to you. No more death.”  
Moira looked at Sam closely before turning back to the leader.   
“Let’s end this,” she said firmly, “Let the hunters help. This needs to stop.”    
“And what then?” another woman demanded, stepping forward, “What happens after we get them back- do we run like cowards? Live in fear of these slave traders? The human wants to settle this peacefully, but there is no live and let live with rabid dogs.”   
“We’ll find the ringleaders,” Dean said, “We’ll take them out.”

The leader seemed to think on this, nodding to the men standing next to Dean. They reached down, knives in hand.   
“No don’t!” Sam yelled in panic, shocked to see them cut his bindings. Dean stood up, rubbing his wrists and shivering.

“You and your brother have two days,” The leader said, “Two days to return our people to the rookery, and bring us the ringleaders. We will deal out our justice.” Dean stumbled over to Sam, who was now nose to nose with the leader.   
“But be warned,” he said seriously, jabbing his finger into Sam’s chest, “If you go back on this agreement, we will declare war on your kind. No matter their affiliation.”   
“Fine, we’ll stay away from the coast then,” Dean remarked. The leader turned to him, a smile spreading across his face.   
“There are many more of us than there are of you, hunter,” he said, “Do you really think you can protect the expansive coastal lands? Over 95,000 miles of coastal land. Can you protect all the innocent people we will kill, should you go back on your word?”   
“We won’t go back on our word,” Sam said seriously, “I promise.”   
“We shall see,” he said, turning away. He let out a series of clicks, the entire rookery turning away and picking up their skins from the sand, diving into the water.

Dean was shivering hard, prompting Sam to yank off his coat and wrap it around him.  
“Now what? Dean demanded through chatter teeth.   
“Now, we find the ring leaders,” Sam said, “Then, we find the skins.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam walked over to Dean, handing him a mug of coffee and sitting across from him, rubbing his face. Dean took it, drinking it quickly as he pulled the blanket tightly around his shoulders, still shaking from the cold.

“You okay?” Sam asked quietly, watching his brother’s face. Dean shrugged, drinking the rest of the coffee quickly and setting it aside.   
“It was an adventure, I’ll tell ya that,” he replied, rubbing his legs under the blanket, “Never been in a hostage situation quite like that.”  
“Where were they keeping you?” Sam asked, “I looked…all over that beach. I looked everywhere.  Where the hell…”  
“This like…cave thing. It’s honestly all a little fuzzy. When they attacked, they drug them men out into the water and drug them under, just like we thought they were doing. When they drug me out, I but the chord on the necklace- I wanted you to know I’d been there, that they’d taken me. We were all out there, trying to get away, and they were screaming man. Screaming for their families, for mercy…I watched them go under and come back up, but I never did. I was waiting for my turn to get drug under like them, but it never happened. The thing just held me there.”   
He stuck his leg out from under the blanket, revealing a nasty looking bite on his heel, “They didn’t drag me under. They just held me out in the water. I watched all those guys die…man Sammy, I’ve seen a lot of shit, but nothing like that.”   
Sam was quiet, unsure of what to say.   
“Shit, I tried everything to get away from them. Kicking, knifing them, I woulda gotten a few shots off if they hadn’t taken us by surprise. Then they drug me under, and I got hit in the head by like…a flipper or a fin or something. Next thing I knew, I was wrapped up like a goddamn Christmas present in a cave with some dudes watching me. But that’s not the weirdest part.”  
“What the hell could be weirder than that?” Sam asked.   
“Y’know…Y’know how when we’re hunting, or when we’re in a bad situation, like, you can feel if the thing wants to hurt you and kill you?”  
Sam nodded.   
“Well…I didn’t get that feeling. Even in the water, and in the cave, I didn’t get that feeling, you know? I could tell they were gonna take me, but right then? I didn’t get that, ‘Holy fuck, this is it, I’m gonna fucking die’ feeling, even though they had me right where they could kill me.”   
“So, are you saying you think they’re gonna hold to their word to end this all with the ringleaders?” Sam asked.  
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Dean said, shrugging, “All I know is that it was fucking weird.”   
Sam nodded, getting up and getting Dean a fresh cup of coffee before sitting back down and handing it to him.   
“Wait, you said the guys were all screaming for mercy and for their families,” Sam said, “Did any of them say anything interesting?”  
“Well yeah Sam, it was all pretty damn interesting!” Dean snapped. Sam winced, rubbing his mouth.   
“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry,” he said gently, “I just mean, was there anything relevant to the case?”  
Dean laid back against the headboard, curling up in a ball and nursing the coffee like he usually nursed beers.   
“Ah, yeah. One of the guys…Tingley? Yeah, Tingley. He was screaming, ‘I didn’t know, I didn’t know, Charlie didn’t tell me, I swear I didn’t know’ over and over. Shit, he was still screaming it when they drug him under.” Dean paused, draining the cup, “There was one other thing. He said, ‘If I knew where it was, I would’ve given it back.’”  
“Wait, Charlie? And this officer, you’re sure his last name was Tingley?” Sam asked, grabbing his notebook.   
“Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure, I saw the guy fucking die,” Dean snapped, “He was a nice guy, too. He was the one I was talking to when they attacked.”   
“He said that he would’ve ‘given it back’, right?”  
“Yeah Sam, what the fuck are you getting at?” Dean demanded.   
Sam nodded absentmindedly, flipping through his pages of notes on the case. Dean leaned forward, peeking over the top of the notebook and whistling.   
“Hey Nancy Drew, sharing is caring,” he said, “You got something?” Sam continued to flip around the notebook, reaching over and grabbing the complimentary pad of paper from the bedside table.   
“Yeah, actually,” he said, “I interviewed Lila Taylor- the little girl who was found on the beach- and she said her mother and father were arguing the night he died because she had found something. Lila said it looked like a shiny blanket, and begged her to come back at the beach. Before that, Leanne Miller, the first woman to disappear, told her husband to ‘give it back’. And you said Officer Tingley said if he knew, he would’ve given it back.”   
“Okay…?”Dean said questioningly, “So they’re talking about the skins. That doesn’t help us much- we know they’re selkies.”   
“I know,” Sam said, “But what if Officer Tingley was telling the truth? What if he really had no idea what it was?”  
“Okay,” Dean said, “Ya gotta connect more dots for me. I haven’t gotten very much done other than getting spirited away to selkie land.” Sam nodded.   
“Lila said that her dad bought her mom, that’s what her mom told her, but she wasn’t supposed to talk about it,” Sam said, “And the selkies said that hunters were kidnapping selkie women for wives. What if the cover is a mail order bride sorta thing?”   
“Alright. So Tingley-“  
“Officer Tingley.”  
“Why do you keep saying that?” Dean demanded. Sam smirked, holding out the pad from the bedside table.  
“There’s two Tingleys. Officer Tingley, and the guy who owns this place, Charles Tingley. Otherwise known as..”  
“Charlie,” Dean said, “So you think Chuck it one of the ringleaders?”   
“Yeah,” Sam said, “It was Charles Tingley’s wife, Betsey, who took me down to the beach and to you. “  
“Chuck is one of the ringleaders, and he played Selkie matchmaker,” Dean said, “Set up his brother, set up the guys on the police force, all that. But no one noticed.”  
“And I’m willing to bet Sherriff Coleman is in on it.”

* * *

Dean watched as Chuck Tingley walked out of the main motel office, getting into his car and driving off, whistling to Sam. Sam nodded and walked in as casually as possible, ringing the bell at the front desk.  Betsey peeked around the doorway to the counter, bouncing her baby gently.   
“Can I help you?” she asked quietly, walking forward. Sam looked at her, holding out a bundle of folded up bills.   
“I need to reserve the room for another 2 nights,” Sam said, “Make sure it’s all there. “ She looked at him questioningly and he nodded, raising an eyebrow. She opened up the bills, a small slip of paper falling out. She took it, slipping it in her pocket and putting the bills in the register.   
“Certainly, Mr. Turner,” she said quietly, “Do you gentlemen need more towels?”   
“Yeah, we could use a few more,” Sam said politely, “If you could bring them before this evening, we would really appreciate it.”   
“Of course,” she said, “I’ll have those towels to you as quick as I can.”  
“Thank you, Mrs. Tingley,” he said, turning and walking out.  Dean got out of the Impala, jogging up next to him.   
“So, it worked?” Dean asked, “She got the note?”  
“Yeah,” Sam said, “She said she’ll bring us what we need as soon as she can.”

* * *

Dean and Sam looked up from the table they were both sitting at, pouring over the town’s residents, victims, and police department, when they heard a hesitant knock. Dean picked up his gun as Sam peeked out the window and called out, “Uh, who is it?”  
“Mrs. Tingley,” Betsey said, “I have your towels.”   
Sam nodded to Dean, and Dean opened the door, hiding his hand holding the gun behind his back.   
“Ah…just set them on the bed please,” He said, sitting back down across from Sam. She set them down and turned around, pausing at the door.  
“I didn’t understand what you asked for,” She said, “So I went into his desk and took everything that looked important.”   
She left quickly, closing the door as both Sam and Dean leapt out of their seats, tearing apart the towels. Inside each perfectly folded one, there was a manila folder packed with papers.   
“Ah, you take the top half, I take the bottom half?” Dean asked, shrugging.

-

Two folders later, Dean bounced his head off the table, groaning.   
“You can tell she ain’t human,” Dean groaned, “I have waded through enough receipts to last me a lifetime.”   
“Wait, I think I found something,” Sam said, picking up a receipt from what looked like a storage place, with some messy writing scribbled on the back. He held it out to Dean, who squinted at it.   
“Machiasport Storage, unit A7,” he read, flipping it over and reading the spidery writing, “03-28-89, C, A, O, B.” Dean looked up at Sam, his eyebrow rising, “Sounds like a lock combination. But what are the initials?”  
“Well, Machiasport Storage is owned and operated by Bill Addison,” Sam said, “So the initials are probably the co-conspirators in the mail order bride scheme.” Dean nodded, pulling the list of names out from under one of the piles of papers.   
“C-A-O-B. First initials?”  
“Could be last,” Sam replied, rubbing his face, “We need to find out which ones of them are married.”   
“We could ask Betsey,” Dean suggested, “Wouldn’t mind getting an eyeful of her again.” Sam shook his head, biting his lip.   
“I don’t think she knows too much,” Sam replied, “We got lucky with this receipt, she had no idea what a social security number was.”   
“True,” Dean said, shrugging, “So why don’t we go pay Bill Addison a visit? Check out the unit, maybe give him some physical motivation to spill the beans.”   
“But what if he’s got no idea?” Sam asked, “He might not even know.”   
“Come on, we’ve dealt with enough places like this- they’re usually pretty seedy,” Dean replied, “I mean, Dad had a whole damn bunker in one of those storage units and no one ever gave a shit.”   
“ You’ve got a point,” Sam said, sighing, “Well, it’s worth a shot. Let’s get going.”

* * *

Dean spun in the combination quickly, glancing around as he yanked up the door on the storage unit and walked in, shining his flashlight over the place. The place was stacked at one side, floor to ceiling, with plain wooden chests, all padlocked. Dean leaned in close to them, tapping them with his knuckle. There was a dull thud, no echo.   
“These things are all packed with something,” he said, shining his flashlight downwards.   
“Dude,” he whispered, “Check this out.”   
Sam walked over, kneeling down next to a chest, running his fingers over four marks in the side, along with dozens of others.  
“Those are nail marks,” Sam said quietly, “Someone was trying to get in here.” Dean shook his head, swearing under his breath.   
“That’s fucked up,” he said, picking up what looked like a torn, bloody fingernail. Sam stood up, turning around and facing the half-open door.   
“Not as fucked up as this,” Sam whispered, swallowing shallowly. Dean looked up from where he was squatting at where Sam’s light was pointed. Just like the chest, there were nail marks in the paint of the metal door and across the floor just in front of the entrance. Dean swallowed shallowly, getting jittery.

“They were keeping them in here,” Dean said, walking over to the back wall, his gingers running over a set of 5 metal loops set into the wall, looking down at the floor, “They were keeping them back here.”   
“Those chests have probably got the skins in them,” Sam said, “But there are 20 chests in here. How many selkies are there?”   
“A lot, apparently,” Dean said, “I gotta get outta here man. I can’t stay in here.” Sam raised an eyebrow, nodding.   
“Yeah man, go on,” Sam said, “You aren’t looking too good.”

Dean ducked outside, and Sam heard him grunt as he fell to the ground.   
“Dean!” he yelled, ducking under the door, only to get cracked in the head as well.

* * *

Sam shook his head trying to move his hands and realizing they were handcuffed. He groaned as his head started to pound, looking around.    
“Mornin sunshine,” Dean groaned from across the room, “I’m getting a little tired of getting knocked in the head and chained up!” he yelled at no one in particular. Sam shook his head again, wincing.   
“What the fuck happened?” Sam moaned, sitting up a little.   
“Well, we found out where they’re keeping the selkies,” Dean said, jerking his head across the room. At the far end, a group of 5 dirty women were huddled together, ignoring their presence entirely. Sam looked back over at Dean, leaning his head back against the wall behind him again.   
“What are we gonna do now?” Sam asked.   
“Working on it,” Dean grunted, “But I know who’s involved now.”  
“How?” Sam asked.   
“Takes a lot more than a punch to knock me out,” Dean muttered, “If that’s all it took, I’d be dead by now.”   
“So you faked it?” Sam asked.   
“Yeah, I faked it. But you got pistol whipped- hard to fake getting knocked out like that,” Dean replied, “Since it usually, y’know, actually knocks you out.”   
“Right,” Sam groaned, “So…who is it?”   
“Well, you were right about the Sherriff being involved, he’s the one who gave you the K.O. We’re in the house that was next to the storage units, the owner was in on it too. Got a peek of Chuck Tingley too. But that’s all I saw.”   
Sam nodded, trying to jostle the cuffs around his wrists, pinning his arms behind his back. It was no use, but Dean was out of his cuffs, rubbing his wrists.   
“Good thing I started carrying a paperclip in my back pocket,” he said with a grin, standing up and walking over to Sam, making quick work of his cuffs.  Sam rubbed his own wrists, holding out his hand.   
“Gimme one of your picks,” he said, “We gotta get them outta here.” Dean nodded, handing him one of his picks and going over, grabbing the cuff on one of the women’s ankles. She growled at him, baring her teeth like an animal would.   
“Easy,” Dean said, “We know where your skins are. We’re gonna get you outta here, get ya home.”   
“Where?” one of them demanded.   
“They’re keeping them just down the road. Now keep quiet,” Dean replied, unlocking her ankle. Sam and Dean made quick work of the rest of them, looking around.   
“We need a way out,” Dean muttered. Sam pointed up at the small window, just big enough for Sam to squeeze through.   
“There, we’ll all fit out there.”   
Dean nodded, yanking off his jacket and wrapping it around his hand.   
“We gotta move fast,” Dean said, “I knock out the window, you get out, we’ll get them out. Me last.”   
Dean turned and put his fist through the glass, breaking away as much as possible before laying his shirt over the shards. He knelt down, his hands making a basket. Sam stepped into his hand and scrambled out the window, reaching his hand inside.   
“Come on, coast is clear,” he whispered.   
Dean grabbed the woman closest to him, boosting her up through the window as Sam grabbed her arms, pulling her out quickly. They made quick work of all five of them, but just as Dean grabbed Sam’s hand, Sam was knocked to the side by a boot in the ribs.   
“Shit!” Sam hissed, rolling over and wheezing. He looked up to see Sheriff Coleman standing over him, smirking.   
“Been poking around where you shouldn’t be, kiddo,” The sheriff huffed, pointing his gun point blank at Sam’s chest. He let out a gurgling scream as one of the women leaped onto him, her teeth sinking into his neck. He heard more feet come running, but the women were off like shots, attacking them with their nails and teeth. Sam shoved his hand back down in the window, grabbing Dean’s hand and yanking him up.   
“Where are they?” Dean demanded.

Before Sam could answer, they heard gunshots nearby, one hitting the side of the house.   
“Move!” Dean hollered, both of them breaking into a run towards the storage units. The women had given up on their quarries,  catching up with them and passing them quickly as the men started to fire at them.   
“Fuck!” Sam yelled, shoving Dean hard away from him, “Break!”

Dean veered off to the left as Sam veered to the right, his legs pumping for all they were worth as bullets hit the ground and the storage buildings around him. He rounded the corner, him and Dean arriving at the storage unit at the same time.   
“Fuckin’ amateurs,” Dean wheezed at the sight of the still-open unit, yanking the door up. They ran inside, pushing over the piles of wooden chests hard, two of them shattering against the floor.   
“Never been happier for poor craftsmanship,” Dean wheezed. Sam and Dean both picked up each chest together, heaving them against the concrete floor with a satisfying crunch as they broke open. The women swarmed over the skins, grabbing them and dashing out the door.   
“What a thank you,” Dean huffed, as Sam grabbed his jacket and drug him out of the unit.   
“Fucking follow them!” Sam yelled, running after them.   
“Why?” Dean yelled back to him.   
“They’re heading straight for the water,” he yelled, whipping out his phone, “We got numbers there!”   
Dean nodded, running hard as the docks came into view. Sam held the phone close to his mouth as he ran.   
“They’re in the wooden chests!” Sam yelled into the phone, “The skins are in the chests!”

They hit the top of a high hill unexpectedly, their feet going out from under them as they rolled down the hill, gunshots whizzing past them and hitting the trees. They hit the bottom and Dean moaned, getting to his feet.   
“I’m getting too damn old for this,” he groaned, grabbing Sam’s hand and pulling him to his feet. They could hear the Sherriff and the others behind them, Sam pushing Dean’s back hard.   
“Shut up!” Sam yelled, “Go go go!”

They dashed out of the small woods at the bottom of the hill, ending up in the middle of a road, the shore just across the way. They leapt off the embankment on the side of the road, sliding down the sandy hill and rolling across the sand.   
“Sam,” Dean said, pointing, “Look.”

They both sat still for a moment, looking up to see dozens of women, shining skins bundled around their shoulders, running down into the surf, diving beneath the waves. Sam grinned, pulling Dean to his feet.   
“I knew she’d know what to do,” He huffed breathlessly.   
“Betsey?” Dean asked. Sam nodded.   
“That’s who I called. She got the word out,” he said, looking back up the embankment to see the Sheriff and the other quickly approaching. They both ran across the beach, heading to the surf and running in.  They swam as hard as they could, stopping and looking back at the men standing along the edge of the water.

“Can’t stay out there forever, boys!” The Sheriff yelled, “Gonna get real cold real fast!” Sam grinned.   
“I would be more worried about you,” Sam yelled.

Out of the water, dozens of heads poked above the waves, moving closer to the shore. The selkies leapt from the water, half morphing as they grabbed the men, dragging them into the water. Sam and Dean swam to the shore, ignoring the screams of the men around them, shivering hard. They watched as the selkies drug them under the water, dark spots suddenly blooming where their bodies once had floundered.

* * *

Sam and Dean stood on the beach the next day, looking a bit miserable as they faced the Leader of the selkies and Betsey Tingley, who was beaming.   
“Thank you,” The leader said, “We will not forget this.”   
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Dean said, “I’d say this is what we do but it’s usually the other way around.”  The leader cracked a smile, turning away with the rest of them and heading back to the water. Betsey turned too, until Sam yelled after her.   
“Hey, wait!” He said, jogging over to her.   
“Yes?” she asked expectantly.   
“What…what are you gonna do about your kid, all of the kids?’ he asked, looking concerned. She laughed, reaching out and patting his shoulder.   
“They will be cared for,” she said seriously.   
“But they need you,” he said, “They…they need their moms. Growing up without parents…it’s not good for kids.” Betsey cocked her head to the side.   
“You know this from experience?” she asked.   
“Sorta,” he said, “Is there any way you can…take them with you?”   
“They are humans,” she said sadly, “They can’t shift.”   
“So…that’s it?” Sam asked, “You’re gonna…just leave them?” She smiled sadly, nodding.   
“It is our way,” She said, “But they know that if they come to the beach, they can see us. The children have their human families to care for them.”

Sam nodded dejectedly, his head drooping. He felt awful- helping the selkies escape their slavery was good- he felt as if he’d just destroyed the lives of dozens of children. She tipped his chin up, smiling serenely.   
“Our children know what we are for a reason,” she said, “They know they will always find our arms open here, on the shore. Children are resilient. They will always find a way to survive, because they don’t know how to give up yet.”

Am nodded and she turned away, heading back towards the water.   
“Wait!” he yelled again, and she turned around, grinning again.   
“What is it now, Hunter?” she asked.   
“What’s your real name?” he asked. She laughed.   
“You couldn’t pronounce it,” she replied, bending down and sweeping her skin around her shoulders, diving into the surf.

Dean walked up next to Sam, patting him on the shoulder.   
“Come on, little brother, let’s hit the pavement,” Dean said, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulder and pulling him towards the road, “Come on.”   
“Where we going next?” Sam asked, his teeth starting to chatter as they scrambled up the embankment.   
“Florida,” Dean replied, “I am sick of the fucking cold.”


End file.
